This is a follow up to my first post in regards to my five-year-old’s desire to be a word class gift wrapper when she grows up…

Employees at work regularly ask for my thoughts regarding their desire to change positions or leave the organization. My initial question is always, “Why?” I am especially interested in understanding why an individual seeks to change departments since that usually involves a change in competencies and skill-set. Often, the response is some version of, “I just don’t know if I can stay where I am because of my supervisor, because of my co-workers, because of the hours.” That’s usually always the wrong reason to jump ship. I advice that if the individual isn’t truly passionate about the position he or she is seeking, then engagement and fulfillment will always elude them. Running away from a bad situation can become a habit pattern. Then I send the individual off to fully reflect on whether he is she is looking for a job or a career that has meaning and provides an opportunity to make a significant impact in the lives of the children and families we serve.

That’s my stance on the issue of career moves, but I didn’t know how to respond to my daughter’s announcement that she no longer wanted to be a Wrapper. Actually, it was hard to even understand what she was trying to tell me in the midst of her torrential tears. In the end, I was able to decipher the source of her angst. Apparently, she had been quite proud of her wrapping efforts until that moment. Having spent a significant time tying ribbon around a gift, she was wholly unprepared for her efforts to be wasted when the ribbon unraveled. She, too, unraveled, and explained that she no longer wanted to try if she couldn’t get it right.

My mind was working fast to come up with the right answer. At work, I would validate the individual’s feelings and congratulate him or her on her desire to achieve excellence, but explain that even the greatest leaders fail at times. Their greatness lies in their ability to learn from their failures and to persevere. I usually explain that Thomas Edison experienced a thousand failed experiments before inventing the light bulb, how Albert Einstein was recognized as a failure in school because of his dyslexia and is now recognized as a genius, etc…

None of that came to mind when presented with a five-year-old drama queen. I wanted to say, “Seriously? You’re having a meltdown over ribbon? Get over it. People fail all the time. You need to persevere.” Where was the empathy on my part? My daughter is a perfectionist. As a recovering perfectionist, I remember how irritated I used to be when teachers and other adults would belittle my need for perfection. It is a very real need for my daughter. I could compliment her on the 20 beautiful gifts she had already wrapped, but that would have been of little consolation.

As an adult, I am often asked, “Nhung, you know you can’t be perfect, right?” Ummm…no, not always. Intellectually, I know perfection is not attainable, but I often strive for it. I know that I’m going to need to help Lexi through life’s many disappointments. Failure will be inevitable. She will want to lose it. I’ll need to think of something better than the inane comments I often make at work. I want Lexi to strive for excellence, but I know the unhealthy habits associated with the need for perfection, and I need to intervene now as her mom.

I didn’t have the right answer during her meltdown, but I will. At the time, I responded the only way I knew how. I gave her a big hug and told her I loved her.

That will solve all future hurts and pain, right?